Hopelessly Flawed
by Plaidly Lush
Summary: sequel to Speak The Unspeakable. The third and last installment of the Oneshot DHr Trilogy. Hermione and Draco and Death Eater Drama. Some HPGW involved.


Hopelessly Flawed   
  
From Hermione's perspective, their relationship was perfect. She found it difficult to imagine how she could have been happier. Draco never said he loved her again after that night, but he did not need to. She could feel it, as well as she could feel her own love for him. As for speaking her feelings, she didn't say it very often either.   
  
They were together every day, every night, and had some sort of sexual adventure each time. Whenever they had free time, they would spend it with each other. They went out on their lunch breaks to some restaurant. Sometimes Harry and Ron would tag along with them, Ron bringing a woman as a date, and Harry always alone. Hermione was surprised for a whole week at how well Harry, Ron, and Draco got along, but she soon became used to it.   
  
They acted their feelings in whatever ways they knew how. Draco would buy her things at unexpected times, plan romantic dates for them, and take time off work that he really did not have the liberty to take in order to spend time with her. Hermione sent him love notes, smiled whenever she was around him, and thought up novel ways to please him in the bedroom. She could tell he appreciated the latter especially.   
  
"Hermione," Draco said one night, when she was lying awake. His voice was muffled, and she turned her head to see that his face was nestled into the pillow. She shifted onto her side, facing him.   
  
"Yes, darling?" she murmured, placing her hand gently on his shoulder.   
  
"What time is it?"   
  
She glanced at the clock. "Three seventeen."   
  
"Can't you sleep?" he asked, quite groggily.   
  
"Not so much. What about you? Did my silence wake you?"   
  
"I had a dream that you were awake."   
  
A smile adorned her lips. "Really?" she said doubtfully.   
  
"Not really." Draco turned over with a groan. His eyelids fluttered open. He was staring at the ceiling unfocusedly. Abruptly, he slid out from under the covers, declaring, "I need some water."   
  
Hermione's gaze followed him from the room. He closed the door behind him out of habit. She leaned back against the pillow again, sighing softly. She knew he was having troubling dreams, but he never talked about his dreams to her. It was discouraging, considering that they talked about everything else. It was, without a doubt, her favorite part of the relationship. Sometimes, instead of sex, they would have long talks, delving into the inner recesses of their minds, bringing up anything they felt was worth discussing. Draco knew her better than Harry or Ron ever had, or even her own parents.   
  
She was reminded of something she said to him once, during their first run. They had been discussing their many issues, emotional, mental, and the like. At one point, Hermione had shaken her head, and told him, "You are hopelessly flawed."   
  
"Well, thanks," he had replied, sounding slightly offended.   
  
"Not physically, Draco, you know that. But in all other ways- and don't even deny it- you are flawed." She looked expectantly at him. He shrugged resignedly, and she grinned. "Hopelessly flawed, and absolutely perfect."   
  
For some reason, this had lead to a heated snogging session.   
  
Draco came back into the bedroom, wearing only his dark boxers. He climbed under the covers next to Hermione. Then, reading her mind as easily as he always did, he stretched out his arm and pulled her into him. She nestled into his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin against her face. They laid that way until both of them fell asleep.

* * *

When Harry entered the office that day, he found Hermione working busily away at her desk. It was far from unusual for her to arrive before him, but seeing as it was only two o'clock in the morning, he was surprised. Hermione tended to use these early morning hours to sleep. Harry approached her.   
  
"Did you even go home at all?" he asked.   
  
She barely glanced up. "Oh, hi Harry. Sorry, can't talk much, I'm busy right now."   
  
"So I see," he commented, peering at the papers. "Raid inventory again?"   
  
"Yes. Three raids in an hour, can you believe it? They had to be put into action less than an hour after the planning, lest we miss our chance. As it turned out, we gained quite a foothold with these raids. Confiscated an entire roomfull, and more. At least half of it is going to have to be taken to the D.M. after I finish."   
  
The D.M. was what they called the Department of Mysteries. It was used in conversation so often, no once could be bothered to say the name out any longer. Harry smiled slightly. "Need help?"   
  
"Not really- and what are you doing here? Isn't it only- two hours after midnight?" She asked, after glancing at a large wall clock.   
  
"Yes, it is. I couldn't sleep, and had nothing else to do, really. I tried calling Ron, but he was gone." Harry stopped himself. Would Hermione wonder why he would call Ron that late in the night… or early in the morning, or however she considered the time?   
  
"Mm. He was called to investigate a problem- has to do with a chessboard that appears to be hexed, you know, so they called in the Chess Expert Weasley."   
  
Harry cracked a smile. That was, in fact, how many of the Aurors knew Ron. "Best not to go looking for him, then, he's probably having an intimate moment with some Bishop."   
  
Hermione seemed to catch his joke, and slapped at him with a sheaf of papers. "That's not- well, it is funny, but it's wrong."   
  
"I suppose it is," he said, "Or, at least it would have been fifteen years ago." He had been leaning against the walls of the cubicle-style office. Now he righted himself. "I'll just go and check if there's any work needs catching up, see you later, all right?" He made to leave.   
  
"Harry, wait a second." Hermione called him back. He winced very slightly. He knew he wasn't going to get away that easily.   
  
"Yeah?"   
  
"You weren't really calling Ron at two in the morning, were you?" she asked.   
  
Harry sighed, reminding himself that he had known this would happen sooner or later. "No, you're right," he said. "I called someone else. I did look for Ron when I came in, though, because he said he might be here quite late."   
  
"Who?"   
  
"Ron, that's who we've been talking about, isn't it?" he said nervously.   
  
"No, I mean who did you call? And why did you mention it at all?"   
  
"You promise you won't tell?"   
  
She looked at him seriously. "Mostly."   
  
Harry shook his head slightly before plunging in. "Well, I… um, I called Ginny."   
  
"Ginny! Why?"   
  
"Shhh! Hermione, someone might hear you."   
  
"What is going on with you two, then?"   
  
"Nothing, that's the problem. She's still mad at me for… that thing that happened. And I'm trying to get her to talk to me again, so I can tell her…"   
  
"What, Harry?" Hermione prompted, standing up and coming closer.   
  
"That I love her," he finished quietly, looking down.   
  
Hermione smiled at once, throwing her arms around him. "Oh, Harry! That's wonderful! But if you don't want anyone to know, then why are you telling me?"   
  
"Because I have a death wish, I guess, who knows."   
  
"Death wish?" They both fell silent as Percy Weasley walked by them with a curt nod. Not even a seer could have said what he was doing in that part of the ministry, but no one really cared, either. "What do you mean?"   
  
"What, you don't remember how angry almost every one of the Weasleys got at me? Yeah, Molly and Arthur got over it quickly, and Ron never suspected that I was trying to, ah, dishonor Ginny or anything, but the rest of them wanted to kill me."   
  
"They didn't want to kill you, Harry."   
  
"Oh, no? Fred and George came after me with some of their more dangerous products, and Charlie was muttering about a dragon's tooth and how some of them become venomous when disembodied…"   
  
Hermione smiled, though she hid it behind a hand. "Okay, so they overreacted a little, but that was more than a year ago. Don't you think they'd have gotten over it by now?"   
  
"Well, most would think that, but you know our beloved Weasleys. Ginny's still mad at me, so I think her brothers are as well." Harry knew he looked and sounded like a stubborn thirteen year old during all of this.   
  
"I'll give you that, but you want to know what I think, Harry?"   
  
"Occasionally, and if not you always tell me anyway."   
  
She rolled her eyes at him, eliciting a smirk that made him think of Malfoy. I hope I'm not turning into him, he thought. "I think you should tell her anyway. You've nothing to gain by not telling her, and once you do, you'll know whether you have anything to lose."   
  
Harry stood silent for a moment. He was not sure what that meant, exactly, but it seemed to make sense to the part of his brain that was saying, _Well, if you don't know, I'm not going to tell you.   
_  
"You know what? You could be very right, Hermione. Thanks."   
  
"Not a problem at all. Now, if you don't mind, I've got inventories to finish," she said maturely, taking her place at her desk once again. She looked up at him before resuming her work. "Does Ron know about this?"   
  
"He might," Harry said, shrugging. "I haven't told him, but he's good at seeing these things." It was surprising, but true. Ron was now one of the main interrogators because of his ability to read faces, and what might not be shown in them.   
  
As he was turning away, an owl flew to Hermione, sticking out its leg for her to remove the letter, then flew off as soon as she had it. She opened the message, scanned it, then gasped. "Draco," she murmured. She barely grabbed her wand before Disapparating.   
  
Harry did not even have time to call out to her. "Damn it!" he told the office, snatching up the message and scanning the lines. It was short, written in an unfamiliar hand, proclaiming that if she wanted to help her precious Draco (the name was even written maliciously), she would have to come to this location, which was given immediately after. Harry crumpled the paper in his fist, preparing to go after her, when Ron showed up.   
  
"Distress signal, Harry, from Malfoy."   
  
"I know. They sent Hermione a note, which is undoubtedly a trap."   
  
Ron scanned the letter Harry handed him. "Undoubtedly," he agreed, looking worried. "That's not the location the signal is coming from."   
  
Harry's breath caught in his throat. "What?" His voice was low and surprisingly dangerous.   
  
"No, it came from twenty-eighth and Cunningham, I think the site of an old warehouse."   
  
"Well- if Malfoy isn't even there, Hermione's all alone. Someone's got to help her." He Disapparated, and came out in the exact same spot. He hadn't moved. "Damn, they must have warded the place to let Hermione through and no one else. We'll have to get there some other way."   
  
"Malfoy is on the way to that building," Ron reasoned. "We'll get him first, then go deal with the situation. Well come on, Harry, what are you waiting for?" They darted away together, toward the location of Malfoy's distress signal.   
  
There were about five Death Eaters there, tearing the place apart as they searched for something. Presumably it was Malfoy; his Invisibility Spell was frequently put to use to hide from Death Eaters. A few quick Threat Spells sent the Death Eaters into a calculated retreat. Malfoy appeared off to their right, carrying something under his arm. "I was beginning to think no one was coming," he scoffed.   
  
Harry rolled his eyes. He may be on their side, but he was still Malfoy. "What's that?" He pointed to what Draco had with him.   
  
"This is what in common terms is known as evidence. In less common terms, a _Mutatinis_. It's used in certain Dark rituals related to mind control and gaining new powers."   
  
"How is it evidence?" Ron asked.   
  
"It's labeled 'Property of Andolfo Lestrange'."   
  
"Well, that would about do it," Ron allowed.   
  
"Nevermind that, Ron," Harry interrupted. "Malfoy, we've got problems. Hermione."   
  
"What happened?" Draco was suddenly alert and concerned.   
  
"She was sent this note, which contains a death threat to you. She went immediately when she thought you were in trouble. I tried to follow her, but the location must have been warded to let only her through by Apparating."   
  
He had handed the message to Malfoy, and now he crumpled it and threw it on the ground. "I'll take care of this," he growled.   
  
"But-" Harry protested. He wanted to help Hermione.   
  
"Just work with me here, all right Potter? I've got my broom with me, I can get there in about five minutes. You two, always using your brains, came here without a thought to how you were going to get to Hermione. This," he hefted the silver device he was holding, "needs to be brought to the Ministry as soon as possible. Take it, wait for us there. I promise to let you know how things went. If you don't hear from me, I'm dead."   
  
Malfoy thrust the thing into Harry's arms, mounted his broom, and shot away from them. Sighing, Harry tugged on Ron's arm. "Come on, we'd better get this back there. It can be identified and tested for usage." They Apparated back to the Department of Defense.   
  
"You think we should fill out a report?" Ron wondered, not at all enthusiastic.   
  
"Nah, we can do it later," Harry said. "I could use a drink, though. Why don't you come to my office." Harry's office was more of a cubicle than a real office, but he didn't spend that much time in it. He reached into the bottom drawer of his desk and retrieved two tumblers and a bottle of Divinity Juice.   
  
"Ah, nectar. The choice drink of the gods," Ron said after a sip. Harry grinned as he downed his tumblerfull and poured another. They sat silently for a while then Ron spoke up. "Harry."   
  
"Yeah, Ron?" He looked up at his best friend, and realized that he was about to say something important. Harry groaned. "Not now."   
  
"Yes, now. Otherwise I'll never bring it up." He did not speak for a few minutes. Harry hoped Ron had fallen asleep, getting him off the hook, but he raised his eyes again to see his friend studying him. At last, he asked, "When are you going to tell her?"   
  
"I don't know what you're talking about, Ron," Harry mumbled with a sigh. Why did everyone insist on speaking of his love life?   
  
"Oh, come off it. I've seen how miserable you are every time her name comes up, every time we run into her somewhere. And she's very defensive whenever someone mentions _your_ name. She'll never be the one to approach you, and I don't want the both of you to be as annoying as this forever. I don't think I can take it. So just bloody tell her, dammit, and I won't have to suffer anymore."   
  
"You suffer? Do you have any idea what you're saying, Ron?" Harry laughed.   
  
"Well, the wording may have something to do with the Divinity Juice, but the message is still getting across, eh?"   
  
Harry stared into his glass, watching the remaining thin layer of alcohol swish back and forth as he circled his wrist. If what Ron said was true, it could either mean that Ginny hated him disproportionately to his crime, or she had some kind of good feeling toward him that she was trying to suppress. And taking into account what Hermione said, it would be good to know either way. He set the tumbler on the table. "You know what, Ron? I think you're right."   
  
"Good. I'm glad you see things my way." Ron winked, then took a swig of Divinity Juice.   
  
Harry stood. "I'll do it now."   
  
"Harry, it's two-thirty in the morning! She'll kill you if you wake her up!"   
  
"I'll take that risk. If it's going to be done at all, it will be when I have some strong alcohol in me. Two glasses of that stuff is sufficient for it."   
  
Ron's shoulders relaxed, and he slumped into Harry's chair. "Well, I suppose I can't really stop you. Let me know how it turns out." He raised his glass. "Luck, mate."   
  
"I notice you didn't say 'good'," Harry muttered. As Ron was grinning, Harry suddenly smacked his forehead. "Oh, but Hermione- I have to know if she's all right."   
  
"Don't worry, Harry. I'll call Ginny's fireplace when they get back. Or in half an hour or so, and tell you what's going on. You said yourself, you have to go now."   
  
Harry glared at Ron, then Disapparated. He appeared just outside Ginny's door. A brief hesitation ensued, then his left hand made his right hand knock loudly on the door.   
  
"Hang on!" he heard from inside. The voice was groggy and faint, but it was definitely Ginny's. Some shuffling could be heard inside, and then the door was opened. For a moment, she just stared at him, and he could do nothing but stare back. Her fire-red hair, those bright blue eyes, creamy complexion… "Harry? Is something wrong?"   
  
"Yes- well, no. Not exactly."   
  
Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Is everyone all right?"   
  
"Mostly," he replied. "May I come in?"   
  
"Harry, it's two in the morning."   
  
"Two thirty, actually. Please, it's important."   
  
Exhaling exasperatedly, she stepped to the side. "All right."   
  
Harry entered the flat. Ginny shut the door behind him, then waved her wand to turn on some lights. Afterward, Harry found it much easier to see. "Can I sit down?" She nodded, and he took a seat at the kitchen table.   
  
"Want some tea or something?" She asked, sounding perturbed and nervous all at once.   
  
"No, thanks. I came here to tell you something." He stopped there. He knew what he wanted to tell her, but how on earth was he supposed to begin? "I want to apologize again for- for- you know." _That wasn't what I wanted to say!_   
  
Ginny visibly stiffened. "Once was enough. If that's all you were going to say-"   
  
"I meant the first apology, you know." Harry was feeling slightly defensive. He knew he would have to be forceful in order to get her to listen. "I had to do what I did. I was following orders."   
  
"Bollocks," Ginny cut in angrily.   
  
"I was following orders," Harry repeated, a little louder this time. "Sometimes I have to do things I don't like, Ginny-"   
  
"That's not what this is about!" She exclaimed, her fist coming down hard on the table. Harry stared at her expectantly, waiting for her to tell him what it was about. She read his look correctly. "You knew- you knew I had feelings for you, and you played that to your advantage. You used my crush and pretended to feel the same way. You betrayed me, and I don't know if I can trust you again."   
  
"But Ginny, you don't understand. You would never talk to me after I apologized to you that night, so I never could tell you the truth."   
  
"What truth?" she asked, her voice doubting.   
  
At this, he stood, and began to pace back and forth as he sometimes did. "You're wrong, you know. You say I pretended to be attracted to you, but I never did."   
  
"Harry, don't you remember anything? For almost a month, you and I-" she cut off, because he was leaning into her face with his hands resting on either arm of her chair.   
  
"I never pretended anything, Ginny. I really was in love with you. And I _really_ still am." He pushed himself backward. "Now I've told you. I'll just let myself out. You probably want to get back to bed." Harry turned on his heel, making for the door with incredible calm.   
  
"Wait." His hand was stretched toward the doorknob. He dropped it. He faced Ginny, who was standing in the doorway of the kitchen. The look in her eyes was one of someone who did not know what to believe. "I don't know if you're telling the truth, but are you willing to prove it?"   
  
He nodded briefly. "Wait here, then," she said, indicating the kitchen. She left, disappearing into her bedroom for a moment. She held a glossy green quill and a small piece of parchment when she reemerged.   
  
"What's that for?"   
  
"This is a quill that is charmed to write only true facts," Ginny told him. "I want you to write down what you told me. Write that you were and are in love with me."   
  
Harry looked down at the quill and parchment before him. It was a simple enough procedure. He began to write, putting down what Ginny wanted to know in very clear terms. He pushed it across the table to her. She lifted it close to her face. Her eyes seemed to scan the lines several times over, then stopped. She stared at what he had written, not reading it any longer. Harry was not sure what that meant.   
  
"Now can I leave?" he asked. He was beginning to feel the grogginess that Divinity Juice produced when drank after midnight. A bed was the only thing that appealed to him.   
  
"No," Ginny said immediately. Harry stifled his disappointment and looked at her face. She tore her eyes from the parchment, looking deeply into his, and a smile spread across her face. "No, you can't."   
  
"Ginny, I-"   
  
She was already making her way to him, and put a finger to his lips to shush him. "It's all right, Harry," she whispered. "I forgive you."

* * *

Hermione struggled futilely against the spell that rooted her to the spot. Her wand had been confiscated. After she had Apparated to the given location- an old house close to Malfoy Manor- and found herself surrounded by robed and hooded Death Eaters, she began to suspect that it had all been a trap. She glared at the one who stood apart from the rest, pacing in front of her slowly.   
  
"Draco is not here, is he?" she demanded. "If he is, then show him to me."   
  
She could almost hear the derisive smile in his voice when he responded. "Oh, you're a clever one, aren't you? Yes, you always were."   
  
Hermione's eyes narrowed when she realized that she knew that voice. "You were the mysterious and rather nosy stranger in the café that morning, weren't you? When I was with Harry and Ron."   
  
The audible smile grew louder. "Yes, in fact, it was. That was also the day I realized a trap like this would work on you."   
  
Hermione did not respond, but merely glared.   
  
"Come now, darling Granger. You should have known that something like this would happen. It was why he broke up with you the first time. I'm only surprised he ever told you the truth. He never did learn the value of containing his emotions, no matter how hard Lucius tried to drill it into his head."   
  
"You'll pay for this," she said through clenched teeth.   
  
The entire room burst out laughing; it seemed to come from the walls. Eventually they quieted, and the one who had taken the role of spokesman took a few steps toward Hermione. "That can only happen if anyone finds out."   
  
"You sent me a note, you idiot, of which Harry Potter is now in possession-"   
  
"Well now, that's an interesting development. I had not realized you spent time with Potter at such hours. If I had, I might have set up the ward to allow him through, as well. I suppose, however, we'll have to make do with what we have."   
  
A knock sounded at the door. Hermione almost called out, but a Silencing Spell was cast over her before any sound could emerge. "That should be the _Mutatinis_. Let them in," the voice ordered. Two Death Eaters made to comply. The door was opened, allowing whoever was on the other side to enter.   
  
"Well, she did say you would pay. Let her go," Draco said immediately. Hermione felt relief and fear all at once. The head of the group turned toward her in surprise, and she gave him a distinct "I-told-you-so" look. He then turned to Draco and spoke one word.   
  
"No."   
  
"_Finite Incantatis_," he stated firmly, pointing his wand at Hermione. The Silencing and Impediment spells came off immediately. She took advantage of the initial reaction time the Death Eaters needed to gather their forces to retrieve her wand.   
  
A battleish scuffle ensued. Draco had apparently used his alarm button, because Ron showed up in the middle of it, bursting through the door, throwing spells every which way. At the end of it, the Death Eaters were depleted in strength, and Hermione, Draco and Ron were back at the Ministry.   
  
"You know, Hermione," Draco said. "Dating you is turning out to be rather dangerous."   
  
She looked witheringly down her nose at him. "Let me guess, but it's worth every minute of pain and suffering?"   
  
"You read my mind." His voice was mock-incredulous. "Hey, where's Potter?"   
  
"Harry, after a few glasses of Divinity Juice, decided to tell Ginny he's in love with her. That was almost an hour ago. If he's not back in a few minutes, she's either killed him or kissed him."   
  
"Divinity Juice?" That seemed to have been all Draco heard of Ron's brief speech. "He's got some?"   
  
"Yeah, in his desk."   
  
"Harry keeps _alcohol_ in his desk?!" Hermione reiterated.   
  
"Er, no, where would you get an idea like that?" Ron averted his eyes, the tips of his ears reddening.   
  
"Forget it, Hermione. I need to sleep so I can get up early and start working. It's a tough thing, to keep my eye on you." He winked. "But I like to do it."   
  
"Does this mean you're going to break up with me again?" Hermione's hands were on her hips, her foot tapping in irritation.   
  
"Of course not. If you lost your memory again, there may be brain damage involved. Now, why don't you just come home with me, and I'll make you feel better."   
  
Taking his hand, Hermione shook her head in wonder. "You know, Draco, we have the oddest relationship."   
  
"Yeah, I know. Hopelessly flawed."   
  
She looked up at him and smiled. "And absolutely perfect."   
  
End So there it is, folks. A little bit of the life of Ministry workers. Hehe, I guess you could say that Draco and Hermione's relationship is an extreme example of "keep relationships in the workplace professional". Of course, that could mean more than one thing… 

Ahem. I just have to apologize for the Bishop joke, because I'm not really sure what I was thinking when I wrote it, but it made me laugh, so I'm leaving it in. Sorry.   
  
So tell me what you think, review, and something good will come to you. If you decide instead that you want to flame, for your own unhappiness you will be to blame.   
  
Karma, you see.   
  
Thanks!


End file.
